Long Way Home
by Faith.Marquardt
Summary: Dean wakes up on the floor of a motel room, bloody and beaten with no memory of the previous few days. Worst of all Sam is missing. [my first fic...let me know what you think!]
1. Blackout

**

* * *

****Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural, or the character Sam and Dean. They belong to Eric Kripke, the creator of the so-addictive television show 'Supernatural'. I do however own any character that is mentioned that is not in that of 'Supernatural' universe. And this story line is my own idea. 

**Summery: **Dean wakes up on the floor of a motel room, bloody and beaten with no memory of the previous few days. Worst of all Sam is missing.

* * *

**The Long Way Home**  
-Written by Faith Marquardt

**-Chapter I-  
**'Blackout'

He was lying a pool of blood...his own? He did not know.

Dean's eyes snapped open. He let out a moan of pain. His head was throbbing. The pain was so intense that it made his vision slightly blurry. Dean slowly sat up, looking around him as he did. He did not know where he was. He was in bathroom—that part he knew. A cracked and grimy porcelain sink stood near him. A shower, a toilet and a bath also. Dean turned his head, causing his head to hurt even more. The bath was covered in blood. He knew it must have once been white, because a patch of the creamy colour was left. Everything else was covered almost entirely in smeared blood.

Dean eyes moved towards himself. He couldn't help but gasp. He too was covered in blood. His shirt was torn, bloody and his jeans were covered in much and dry blood. How did he get like this? He did not know, everything was a blur. Did you fall? Perhaps he had been taking a shower slipped on a bar of soap and then cracked his head on the bath's edge. He would have fell from there, collapsed onto the tiles. But that did not explain all the blood. He wasn't even sure all of this was his own. There was just too much.

"Oh my god, Sammy!" Dean muttered, a sudden thought occurring to him. Where was Sam?

Dean tried to stand, but his limbs seemed to be collapse under his weight. He tried again, this time he reached his bloody hand out for the edge of the sink, but once his hand reached he let out another shriek of pain. His wrist had been broken. He tried to stand again, using his other hand. This time he was successful. He moaned as he began to stand. The pain in his legs, arms and torso was unbearable. The pain was so intense, excruciating, causing tears to appear in his eyes.

When he finally stood on his feet, Dean was forced to grip the edge of the sink with one hand. His balance was terrible. How long had he been lying there for? It felt like he had not moved nor used even the smallest muscle in days at least.

Using his broken and now completely useless hand Dean wiped the tears away from his eyes. He wanted to call out for Sam, get his help. But every time he even attempted to speak once opening his mouth, the only sound that would come out would be that of moan. He was in too much pain. He wanted to scream. He wanted to die.

Dean stood, frozen in place. He tried to regain his balance. But that was proving difficult. The room seemed to spinning, his head felt like it was on fire and his eye sight was a blur. He shook his head, but that proved to be useless. If anything it only caused his head to hurt even more.

Dean glanced up towards the mirror. Blood was smeared on the glass, but he could still make out his reflection. He looked just as bad as he felt. He looked like crap—literally. Dean moved his hand towards his forehead where a large gash was. He then moved his hand down to the side of his face. He winced as soon as his hand touch the skin of his cheek. They were bruised on both sides. And one of his eyes was bloodshot, and blackened and painful looking bruise circled around the eye. His lip was swollen, and his hair was a mess—covered in dry blood and sweat. Dean moved his eyes away from his reflection, and towards his hands. They too—like almost everything else, were covered in blood. But who's were they? Were they his? Or were they someone else's?

Dean moved towards the bathroom door. He used the walls of the room to secure his balance. His head was still pounding and the room still felt like it was spinning. Dean outstretched his hand, reaching for the doorknob. He finally gripped his hand around it, opened it. His other hand—the broken one, was hanging limply by his side.

Dean entered the room—which he now recognized as a motel room. But he did not remember it. Many thoughts were swirling in his mind as to what had happened. Maybe he had got drunk, got into a fight at a bar. That sounded like something he would do. But that didn't explain why he would wake up in the bathroom of the motel room he was staying at. And where as Sam?

Dean looked around the room. The beds had not been made—even Sam's. And Sam always made his bed. It was always Dean who's bed was left a mess. All his younger brother's things were lying near his bed. Some of his clothes were scattered on the floor. Dean moved towards his own bags. Almost the entire contents of his duffel bags had been tossed all over the room. It appeared to Dean that some one had ransacked their motel room. But who would do that? Also the motel room itself was in no better condition. The curtains had been torn, and all the books had been torn apart. The sheets were too covered in blood, and also shredded. Someone had been looking for something. And Dean bet everything he owned that they would have found it too.

Dean's heart began to beat faster as he slowly, and limply made his way around the room. There was sign of Sam. Nothing. Just as Dean was about to call out his brother's name an odd ringing noise made him stop. He looked around, to see where the noise was coming from. He finally realized that the noise had been his cell phone, and it had been coming from inside his pocket.

Dean reached for his phone while taking a seat on one of the nearby beds. He moaned in pain as he was forced to sit down again.

"Hello" he said into the phone.

"_Hello agent Finn this is Dr. Jill Wilkinson" _a young women's voice spoke from the other end of the line.

"Who?" Dean asked. "Who this?"

"_Jill" _the women answered. _"Dr. Jill Wilkinson. I work at the county morgue."_

"Oh" Dean said.

"_You asked me about traces of sulfur I found in a murder victims blood."_

"I did?" Dean asked.

"_Yes" _the doctor replied. _"You told me to give you a call when I found any new information. You said you were leaving today so I figured I better give you a cal--"_

"Today!?" Dean asked.

"_Yes, Friday."_

"No" Dean said. His hand reached for the wound on his hand. "Today is Tuesday."

"_No" _she answered. _"Today is Friday, October 27."_

Dean's eyes widened. He had missed an entire three days. He dropped his phone, not even hearing it as it fell with a loud thud to the ground. He could hear the women on the other end still talking, asking him if he were alright. But Dean was so very far from alright. How could he have missed an entire three days? How could he not remember anything? And where the hell was Sam?

_

* * *

__**(to be continued...)**_

* * *


	2. Missing or Murdered?

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **A **big **thank you to everyone who has reviewed and/or added this story to their favorites. Also however has read the first chapter and is going on to the second thank you also.

* * *

**-Chapter II-  
**'Missing or Murdered'

"Sam!" Dean called, but not answer. "Sammy!" Dean called again, and again no answer.

Dean began to panic. His heart was pounding so heart against his chest. Cold sweat ran down his brow, and began to feel shaky. He was worried, worse than worried. He was down right shit scared.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. He had thrust open the front door of the motel room, and had stepped outside. The sunlight was intense. So much that it felt like it was burning him right there and then. Dean held his hands above his eyes in attempt to shield them away from the sun's rays. He stood just outside the room, the door was still ajar. He looked for his brother, heart still beating brisk. He shouted his brother's name again, and just like he suspected there was no answer.

Dean began to panic. He ran, or more so limped as fast as he could to the car park. He did not remember anything about the past few days. How could three days pass. How he just be lying on the bathroom floor for three days? Wouldn't someone have noticed? Wouldn't Sam have noticed? That was unless Sam was still...

Dean shut his eyes. He could not bare to think of the possibilities, least of all that one. He didn't want to say let alone think that Sam was dead until he saw the body with his own eyes. Sam couldn't die. He must have been taken. _Or taken off, _Dean thought to himself. And again he would have to dismiss that kind of thinking also. Sam wouldn't just take off, and leave his brother lying on the floor, all bloody and beaten. It just wasn't Sam. Anyone with a heart wouldn't do a thing like that. But Dean had to wonder. He looked out at the cars that were parked in the car park. There wasn't many. Only a a quarter of a dozen at least. But no car matched his own. Dean frowned. Where the hell was his car? The beloved Impala his father had given him awhile back. If any demon, or any other sorry excuse for a creature had taken it he would beat the crap out of them. The thoughts of demons driving his car made him ill.

For one of the first times in his life Dean didn't know what to do. It was always Sam who would have calmed him down in a situation like this. Sam would be telling his brother that everything would be fine, and it would all work out. _Yeah, _Dean thought him a smile, _Sammy's always saying pansy stuff like that._

Dean thought of calling the police. Try and file a missing person's on his brother. But then he came to his senses. He had already taken out his cell, although he did not dial the numbers for the police. He couldn't risk it. Dean and his brother were wanted criminals. He couldn't just walk into a police station, empty handed. He would be cuffed and then thrown back in jail. And they would be tripping if they thought that he would have to spend another minute with that Hendrickson guy. That man was a major pain in the arse.

Dean didn't know what to do. But his head was still aching. He glanced towards the window, his reflection was a mess. The gash above his forehead look fairly bad. Dean thought...knew that it would need stitches if it continued to bleed so much. Also his wrist needed bandaging. So Dean dialed the numbers for the nearest hospital. At least if he went there, while he was getting patched up he could see if his brother was anywhere in sight. Who knows, maybe Sam had woken up somewhere else and was in the same boat as Dean. That was a possibility. At least Dean was going to go with that one, because it was a hell of a lot better than thinking of his younger brother to be dead.

* * *

It had taken someone from the hospital some twenty minutes to come out as soon as Dean had called. He had known known—or more so remembered what the name of the motel was so he had been forced to read the name off a napkin—that like everything else in the room had been covered in blood. As Dean sat in the emergency room he bit his lower lip. He was scared. So far he had not seen any sight of Sam, but that was probably because the nurses had not allowed him out of their sight. Not that it was all that bad. One of the nurses, a pretty petite blonde girl that was checking Dean's heart rate made him smile. She gave him a friendly smile back, and then continued checking him over. In any other situation Dean would have asked for her number, have a drink or two with her, spend one wild and crazy night together and then take off and most likely never see her again. But this was the right time. The wrong place. Dean wouldn't be able to have fun right now away. Just knowing that his brother was out there somewhere, most likely injured scared the crap out of him.

"You're heart beat is fine" the blonde nurse said, with yet another smile. "A little fast. But never less nothing to be overly concerned about."

Dean nodded in response. He wasn't really what he should have responded with anyway.

"Dr. Mackenzie will be with you in a moment. He's office is just down the hall. The first door to the right." she said. Again Dean nodded in reply. The nurse scribbled a few last things on the clipboard she was carrying before gazing her brown eyes up at him.

"So is that it? " Dean asked.

"Yep" she replied. "Unless you want see me again. Perhaps over dinner?" she raised an eyebrow, and Dean was forced to give an uneasy smile.

"Uhh yeah listen...ahh...Candace" he said, reading the nurse's name of the badge that was pinned to her dress. "--If this were any other situation I would all over you in a heart beat—literally."

She laughed. "I understand. I just thought I would toss the idea out there."

"Thanks" Dean said. "So was Dr. whats-it-ma-called's office again?" he asked.

"Dr. Mackenzie" she corrected. "His office is down that hall. Straight to your right, it's the first door you see."

"Okay thanks" Dean said, getting up of the chair he had been seated on for the past hour. He moved down the hall, stopping in front of garbage bin near another row of chairs. He had been holding, nursing more than actually drinking and now called cup of coffee. He tossed the paper cup in the bin, and then followed the nurse's directions. He stopped outside the first door to the right. He knew it was the right one, probably because it had had the words 'Dr. Julian Mackenzie' engraved on the plac. He knocked once before the door swung open, completing catching him off guard.

Dr. Julian Mackenzie turned out to be a rather short, and balding man. He wore a white coat—like all the other doctors in the hospital. But judging by his facial expression he wore Dean could sense that he was easy going man. He gave Dean a cheerful smile and welcomed him in his office.

"Wow you've been beaten to a bloody pulp haven't you...Mr...ahh Benton" he added, after reading the name off the "fake" credit card Dean had held out to him.

Dean smiled, trying to be familiar with the name he was being addressed as after all it was supposed to be his name. Being on the FBI's most wanted he couldn't exactly stroll in a public place and announce his name as 'Dean Winchester'. Being a wanted criminal had it's flaws, but it wasn't all such a bitch. After all Dean thought it gave him somewhat of an edge. Just knowing that he was on the most wanted, and dangerous list made his last year on planet earth seem not so bad. Besides chicks dug bad boys.

"Fractured wrist" the doctor said, he held up Dean's x-rays into the light. "Two fractured ribs, no breaks. Other than that your fine." he added with a smile. The doctor moved forwards in his chair, and began cleaning Dean's wounds. He had strapped his hand in a bandage and was just stitching up the large gash in Dean's forehead when the blonde nurse Dean had met earlier came in.

"Oh sorry" Nurse Candace said with an uneasy smile. "You're with a patient I should really learn to knock."

"No that's quite alright Candy" Mackenzie replied. He gave her a warm smile. "We're just finishing up here anyway. Was there anything you particularly wanted to say to me."

"In private" Candace replied. She gave Dean a smile as if to try and not hurt his feelings. But Dean's feelings weren't hurt. Actually he hadn't really been paying attention he had been busy looking—elsewhere. "I'll go wait outside" she added, stepping outside the office and briskly closing the door behind her.

"So how did you sustain injuries like these?" the doctor asked. "You look like hell. No offense, son."

"None taken" Dean replied. He didn't really know how to answer the question. He didn't want to tell the truth, but then again he wasn't really sure of what the truth was. He couldn't even remember the last few days. Sure he could give the doctor some story like 'demons attacked me, and took my brother', but the man would think that Dean was nuts. Many people did. So Dean went with a lie. "Slipped on a bar of soap in the shower" he answered. The doctor seemed to be convinced.

"That would about do it" he responded. "Alright you're done."

Dean winced as the last stitch was put in place. Bu the was pleased to say that his forehead no longer felt like was on fire.

"Tut tut" the doctor murmured while filling out a pain prescription form for Dean. "We've had lots of things going on around here."

"Pardon?" Dean asked.

"Oh" the doctor replied looking up. "Oh, it's just that there had been a lot of people injured. More and more come in every day. At least yours was an accident."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Haven't you seen the news son?" he asked, and Dean shook his head. Watching the news, reading the newspaper was a Sam thing. Dean would always flip to the comic section, never hard core news. "Murders. A couple of town folk have been hurt. It's a terrible thing. A real shame. They were young to. I just hope the police catch the bastard that has done that terrible thing to them."

"What happened to--"

"It's time to go now" the doctor cut across. "It's not important. It's just bad luck for them. Some people are just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. I won't be going into any details. I keep my word to my patients and their families. The families have dealt with enough pain already."

Dean nodded. He took the prescription form from the doctor and then walked out of the room. Candace, the blonde nurse from before was seated outside the office. She gave Dean a shy smile once again before getting off the chair to talk to Dr. Mackenzie.

Instead of turning to walk towards the counter to receive his pain medication, Dean continued down the hall and towards the emergency ward. He didn't know why exactly, but something about murders in the small town seemed familiar to him. He wasn't starting to get any memory back. His mind was still a blank slate as far as he was concerned. But something seemed right about checking out these murders. He continued down the hall. His eyes shifted from one ward window to the next. Everything seemed regular for a hospital. Old people, sick people, and people crying. But one young women was seemed more distraught than anyone else in the room. Dean watched her. A couple of police officers who had just been talking to her moved away, and that Dean figured was his cue. He took a seat on the sofa next to her. He tried not to watch as she buried her face into her hands.

"Here" Dean said, offering her a box of tissues that had been placed next to him.

"Thank you" the young women replied in a grateful tone. She took a tissue from the box and blew her nose.

"No problem" Dean said, placing the tissues back where he had got them from.

"What are you doing? I mean here—in the hospital?" she asked him.

"Me?" Dean asked, and she nodded. "Car accident" he lied, holding up his bandaged wrist.

"Oh that's—terrible" the young women said sympathetically. "No one was seriously injured though?"

Dean shook his head. "No nothing like that. Just me and just a few bumps and bruises but I'll survive. So what about you?"

"Oh" she said, looking down towards the ground. "It's my younger sister Tessa. She was—well I don't like to use the word but murdered. The police have been talking to me all morning."

"Did you find her?" Dean asked, and she shook her head.

"No. I was out jogging when I got a call from the police. They told me that her body had been discovered in a bin just outside the local nightclub 'Teal'. I was upset, though that's obvious by my running mascara, but I never would have thought—I mean who could do this to someone. To a human being. Especially Tessa, she was the nicest person."

"How old was Tessa?" Dean asked.

"Sixteen" the young women replied. "I know right I bit to too young to be hanging around a nightclub in the middle of the night. The cops are all suspicion. You know drugs and stuff. Tessa was a rebel, but not a black sheep. She snuck out, fake ID's but she never did drugs. She is a fun time girl but not a dumb one—or was." The young women burst into tears after these last words and Dean knew how she felt.

Dean couldn't help but wonder if Sam had been murdered. But that couldn't be possible—well it could, anything could, but he wasn't going to give up looking. Dean had a strong feeling that whoever or more so whatever was behind these attacks had something to do with Dean's injuries and amnesia.

"I'm sorry to ask, but do you know how your sister died?" Dean asked.

"No" the young women shook her head. "The cops are keeping all hush about it. But it can't be good right? I mean no murder is good."

"Again I'm so sorry to ask, but is your sister's body _in _the hospital?"

"Umm I think so" she answered. "I think there's a morgue somewhere here, like on the first level. I'm not so sure."

"Okay thank you" Dean said, and he got up to walk away. He felt guilty leaving the young women to cry over her sister. He knew exactly how she felt. If he were in her shoes then he would feel exactly the same way. But right now he had a job to do. He had to find Tessa's corpse, because the closer he was to finding out what did this to these people than the closer he was to finding his young brother.

* * *

Dean had not noticed at the time, but Candace had been watching him. She still stood in the corner of the room, watching Dean's back walking further and further away. Dr. Mackenzie had been standing beside her. Just like the young nurse he too wore a dark facial expression.

"He's asking too many questions" he said to Candace and she nodded.

"Yes, I know Julian."

"We can't afford someone to ruin what we've been working on now" he said, staring after Dean with great distaste.

"What should we do?" Candace asked.

"Keep a close eye on him" Julian replied. "See how far he gets."

"And what if he finds out what we are, what we're up to?" Candace asked.

Julian turned to Candance, his face lit up. "Than his life must end."

* * *

**_to be continued..._**

* * *


	3. Flesh, Blood and Bone

**-Chapter III-  
**'Flesh, Blood and Bone'

"Dammit!" Dean cursed. He had been trying to call Sam, at least a dozen times in the last five minutes. But so far his mission was going no where. All he kept getting was voice mail. But Dean knew that Sam wouldn't have his phone turned off. That had been rule number one. When they were kids, Sam and Dean's father had given them rules for hunting and basic survival. There had been plenty of rules to remember, and Dean had always had a hard job remembering them all. But if there was one thing he did remember it was always keep your phone on, and with you at all times. Then again, that was a rule that Dean was sure that any parent would tell their kids. And Dean did not believe for one second that Sam had his phone turned off. Sam may of done everything to rebel against their father when they were younger, but he was never stupid.

Frustrated, Dean stowed his cell phone away in his leather jacket. He had been walking for what felt like hours now. The hospital was a maze. After awhile of looking, ducking his head in and out of rooms Dean was certain that his brother wasn't there. To be honest Dean didn't know what to do. If it were any other case, any other time his brother had gone missing Dean would have searched for his brother straight away. There had been one time when Sam had gone missing—kidnapped by a family of nutty humans, and Dean had teamed up with a police officer. But that was before he was a wanted murder, bank robber, con artist and many more illegal things he had to add to his resume of crime. Now was different. Now he had to think smart, and act rash. He couldn't remember a thing. Tearing off, searching for his brother, not knowing where he was going or what he would walk into was a 'dumb' idea.

_Finally, _Dean thought. He had finally reached the morgue. Dean didn't have a clue as to what he was going to say once he got in there to examine the body. But Dean figured he would have to take it one step at a time.

Dean reached the morgue's door. He tried to open it, but it was locked—well that would be obvious.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked, coming from behind him.

Dean turned slowly around. _Think of a lie, think of a lie, _he repeated over again in his mind. Dean came face to face with what he knew to be the doctor.

She was young women. She had an olive skinned completion, and shoulder length dark brown hair. Although her hair was short she still wore it back in a neat ponytail. Probably a job requirement. Her tone of voice she had used had been stern, however once she recognized who he was she immediately gave him a friendly smile.

"Agent Finn?" she said. "What are you doing here?"

Dean was on the verge of blurting out the words 'who me?' but he quickly recognized her. Or more so remembered her voice. She had been the women he had spoke to earlier that day—the one who had called him earlier in the motel room. "Dr. ahh Wilkinson" Dean said, racking his brains to try and remember who she was. "I just came to check up on the new body that was just found. Tessa err--"

"Combs?" Dr. Jill Wilkinson asked.

"That's the one" Dean replied.

"Alright" Jill said. She unlocked the door with a set of keys she had be wearing on a lanyard. "Though brace yourself" she said while opening the door and gesturing for Dean to go inside.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he stepped inside the room.

"It's pretty grisly" she replied.

Dean sighed. "Oh don't worry about me I've seen a lot of—OH MY GOD!" Dean cried. He clapped his hands to his mouth as soon as he had entered the room. Dean moved his hand up slightly to cover his nose as well as his mouth, to prevent himself from throwing up. Dean moved over towards the body of what he assumed to be Tessa Combs. The body had been layed out on the autopsy table, lit by a bright swinging light bulb overhead. Although she was lying down, all her limbs were limp—more limp than they should have been. Her skin was ghostly white, drained of all the life he knew must have once lit her face. Her pale skin sagged from her bones, causing every bone and every rib to gut out painfully. There was no colour left. Nothing. Her body looked much alike to that of a human meat suit. Her eyes were frozen open in terror. Perhaps she had seen what had done this to her, because judging by the frozen look of horror on her face she had been in shock.

"Wh—what happ—happened to her?" Dean asked. He had had a hard time getting the words out. Mainly because he had been on the verge of throwing up the wheaties he had had for breakfast that morning.

"I'm not too sure exactly" Jill answered from across Dean. "I am yet to do a full auto spy on her body to find out the exact cause of death. But judging by the state she was in, and was found in I would say all her blood has been completely drained from her body."

Dean winced. He just hoped that this girl's death had not been Sam's. The corpse really did look like hell. Many thought passed through his mind at the last words the doctor had said. Vampire, was the first one, but he would have to take a closer look at the dead girl's neck to be more sure.

"Can I take a look?" Dean asked, and Jill nodded. He moved towards the body, pulled on a pair of disposable rubber gloves Jill had offered him, and then started looking over the body. Dean was careful when examine the corpse, trying his best not to touch the skin as much as possible. He moved his hand towards her hair and carefully moving it away from her neck. As soon as he examined both sides of the body's neck he could defiantly rule out vampire. There were no bite marks on the neck. In fact it was completely unharmed, not even a bruise nor scratch.

"What's this?" Dean asked Jill, pointing towards a nasty looking puncture wound in Tessa's arm. "Eeech" he said, scrunching up his nose.

"I don't know" Jill answered. She seemed to be telling the truth, because she looked just as dumb founded as him.

_Not a vampire, _Dean concluded after he saw two more puncture marks above the girl's knees. He wasn't wrong either. Vampires traditionally suck from the neck. They never systematically drain blood through the major veins like...

"Doctors" Dean said. But he wasn't talking to Jill, more so to himself. But Jill seemed to think that he was.

"Excuse me?" she asked, giving him a puzzled expression.

"Nothing" Dean answered. "Thinking about something else. Listen Jill, if you find anything else just give me a call my number is--"

"I will" she cut across. "And besides that you gave your number some two days ago."

"Right" Dean said. He didn't remember giving her his number, or even have ever meeting the women, but then again he didn't remember much about the last few days.

"Listen" Dean began, a sudden thought coming to him. "When you last saw me was another guy with me by any chance. He's taller than me, brown hair and kind of geek-boy looking?"

"Do you mean Agent Hart?" Jill asked, making Dean frown out of confusion.

"Ahh yeah Agent Hart right, that's the one. Listen did you see him leave with me?" Dean asked.

"No. You left at the same time, but then went in different directions. He went one way, you went another. I think I remember him saying something about a 'demon' or something, but I imagine I was just hearing things" she answered.

A crease appeared on Dean's forehead, as well as a worried expression upon his facial features. What if whatever this thing was had Sam? What if his younger brother had already taken off after it and had ended up in the same condition that the girl Tessa was in? These questions, and endless more all the same, all negative with no positive ending were circling through Dean's head. He couldn't get rid of them. What if his brother wad dead? Dean shook his head. _No, _he thought, determined not to give up hope. _Sammy's not dead. It's just not possible dammit. _Sam may not be dead, but he was still missing. Still out there somewhere. Most likely with the thing that had killed Tessa. Dean had to find him. If not than he would die trying. Because he would rather die than have to lie to see his brother lying on an autopsy table.

* * *

The servant entered it's master's chambers, it's long blood stained robes swishing gracefully behind it as it walked. It held it's head up high. One of it's hands were tucked deep inside it's pocket, clearly it was holding something, hiding something from preying eyes. But an object of mystery wasn't the only thing it was hiding. The servant's face was also hidden. It keep the hood of it's robes were pulled over it's face. Hiding the look of deep satisfaction the servant wore.

It walked passed the hundreds of candles that dimly lit the room. They flickered as it passed. They seemed to dance, causing the servant to feel the need to blow one of them out. The servant stopped to take a deep breath. The strong scent of decay and rotting flesh filled it's nostrils. The servant loved the smell. To it, the scent smelt like roses. Sweet and desirable.

The servant continued moving, stopping when it reached the black alter. It lowered it's head and bowed before the blood stained alter. Candles lined the wall before it and bones were littered, and dead flowers and blood covered the table.

Though the servant appeared alone, it was not. It turned it's gaze away from the alter, and towards one of the walls. It's eyes set upon a young man. A young man that was familiar, even to the servant and it's master alike. The servant smiled. More of a malicious grin than a friendly smile, but never less the servant was happy to have company. It moved towards the young man, who was bound to the walls by iron chains.

The prisoner was sleeping. His hair covered his eyes, but the servant knew who he was. He was Sam Winchester of course.

_**

* * *

**__**To be continued... **_

* * *


	4. Alone

**-Chapter IV-  
**'Alone'

Where was he? He did not know.

Sam stirred. He had his eyes shut. Perhaps he should open them, but something in his head was telling him otherwise. Sam listened to the sounds of the footsteps moving away. He could hear the sound of robes moving softly and slowly across the ground. He shivered, goosebumps appeared on his skin. Sam wanted to see what he was up against, perhaps even see where he was. So he decided to find out.

Slowly, and carefully Sam opened his eyes. It had not done much good. The room he was in was dark, almost pitch black. Unless you were to count a hundred lit candles that seemed to be surrounding the room. He had scrunch up his nose. The smell in the air was horrible. He felt like throwing up. Sam tried to move his arms, but something was holding him. He moved his eyes upwards, and noticed that he had been chained to the wall. His shirt was torn, his skin was bloody and beaten. He looked away from his hands and towards his feet. They too had been bound. How he was ever going to escape he had no idea.

Sam moved his eyes away and towards a cloaked figure that was kneeling on the ground. The person was chanting something, it looked to Sam as if it were praying. But he seriously doubted that anyone who owned a black alter, full of shrunken human skulls was a saint—not even sane.

Sam's heart stopped, froze for a moment as he heard a soft breathing. He knew it wasn't coming from the cloaked stranger but from something beside him. He could feel something move, hear something in the shadows. He didn't know who it was, nor even could he see. Sam felt their arm brush against his for a second, but quickly moved away.

"Is someone there?" Sam whispered. He had a strong feeling that however was beside him was human, and was most likely chained to the wall like he was. They were a prisoner also.

The other prisoner did not speak, but merely let out a soft grunt in response. Sam tried to speak again, but the prisoner silenced him.

"Don't talk" the prisoner hissed. Sam recognized the voice to belong to a female. Her voice sounded weak and dry. She looked up at him, and now Sam could see her face.

She was a young women, no older than nineteen. Her skin was dull, and her eyes looked tired. She too was had beaten, but unlike Sam her cuts and bruises seemed to be healing. Her lips were dry, as was her hair. A tangle of long black knots was upon her head. Not only were knots and weeds tangled in her hair, but also dry blood as well. She looked at him, her dark eyes were filled with sorrow. Sam would tell she wanted nothing more than to scream, even cry perhaps. But something was holding her back, and it wasn't the iron shackles that chained her to the cold wall.

"Where am I?" Sam asked, but the women tilted her head towards the stranger. The cloaked stranger began to stand. Sam could see that something was in it's hand, something bloody. It seemed to palm size, and whatever it was Sam had feeling that it could be in means comforting.

So Sam waited for the stranger to leave. And sure enough it wasn't long before the person had left, leaving just Sam and the young women alone, chained in the room. Once he heard the lock of the door, he turned his head back the young women.

"Where are we?" Sam asked.

The young women closed her eyes. "I don't know. I never saw anything. When the brought me in I was unconscious just like you were. But I think we're underground. Sometimes I hear cars, or what sounds like traffic above. The first days I thought I was going crazy, because I had not even the smallest motional of food. But I believe that my instincts were right."

Sam nodded in agreement. He agreed with her. Underground was a perfect hiding place, either that or an old warehouse of some kind. But Sam was going to go with the sewers. It was cold, dark. The walls were grimy and wet, and there was a puddle of water beneath his feet. Also there were small dead animal bones swimming in the puddles. Sam suspected that they had once belonged to rats.

"How long have you been here?" Sam asked.

The young women blinked and then gave a sad and soft sigh. "At least a week. But it feels like much longer. It feels like I have been down her for a year. I haven't eaten anything. Sometimes they give me water, but that's only every few days."

"But why let us starve to death?" Sam asked. "Why capture us, chain us up if they are only going to let us waste away anyway. I think they've got something else up their sleeve. I think They need us alive for something."

* * *

"So you haven't seen him?" Dean asked or more so demanded. He was beginning to become extremely frustrated. He was on the phone to Bobby. He had been for the past half hour. He was seated in the motel room, cross legged on the floor. Dean had his, Sam's and their father's research, books and even there father's journal scattered around him. He had been trying to find out what he was up against. He didn't know what exactly he was looking for. But right at that moment anything that drained blood was a suspect. But so far all the research was going no where. Everywhere he looked, read all that he could find that had the blood lust was vampires. And Dean had already ruled those son of a bitches out. Perhaps he would have to dig deeper. Find something that can cause amnesia. So that is why had called Bobby, for his help and opinion and also to find out whether he had seen his younger brother Sam.

"_I haven't. I'm sorry Dean" _Dean heard Bobby say on the other end of the phone line.

Dean sighed. He had expected that.

"_So Dean, tell me about this demon again?"_

"I'm not so sure it is a demon Bobby" Dean answered. "I'm thinking human, actually. The way the blood had been drained. It was more human than it was a supernatural creature."

"_Have you found anything to say otherwise?" _Bobby asked.

Dean shook his head, only to realize that 'duh' Bobby couldn't see him. He felt like an idiot, but at least no one had seen him make a complete fool of himself. "Nothing. I've scoured through every book, every website, Dad's journal and everything piece of written paper ever written about well anything. I've got nothing. Worst of all, I don't remember anything. It's like—you know when your drunk and the next day things are hazy but he still remember? Well I don't. It's like my head has been wiped clean. The only thing I got inside me is a knot in the pit of my stomach. I know something bad went down, I got away and Sam—well Sam he..." Dean closed his eyes for a few moments. He dearly did not wan to finish his sentence. Least of all he didn't want to burst into tears. Dean had not shed a single tear in over a decade. Like hell he was going to break his record now.

"_Dean listen to me. Sam's a big boy. He can take of himself."_

"I know. I know that Bobby" Dean said, trying to calm himself down.

"_Besides Dean, who's to say that Sam didn't get away anyway. You say you can't reach him, maybe he left his phone behind. You have to calm yourself down because--"_

"I don't believe that" Dean cut across. He was using a rather stern tone, but he did not care. "If Sammy had gotten away than he would be here, now with me. He wouldn't have just taken off. Now my car's missing. I think 'they' want me to think he has just attacked me than just up and left. But I have to tell you, that clearly these 'things' don't know who they're dealing with. I know my own brother better than anyone else. And I know he wouldn't do that. No those son of bitches are keeping him somewhere."

Dean paused for air. He didn't feel by any means guilty about snapping at Bobby like he had. Bobby should know better. The man had known Sam and Dean since they were kids. Bobby should know that Sam and Dean believed that blood was thicker than water. But Dean frowned. He sense something was wrong.

"Bobby you still there?" Dean asked. But there was no answer. "BOBBY!?"

"_Yeah I'm still here" _Bobby finally replied. He seemed shaky to Dean. His voice sounded scared. _"Listen Dean I'm gonna have to give you a call back."_

Before Dean could say so much as 'goodbye' Bobby had hung up.

"What the hell!?" Dean said, out of amazement. Well if Bobby wasn't going to help him, than Dean would have to find Sam himself. Question was how? Where was he to start? Well finding his blood lusting friend was a start. He would just have to keep looking, keep his eyes peeled for more news. He hated sitting on his arse, knowing that his brother was out there somewhere. With each passing minute Dean thought of Sam being with that 'thing'--whatever that thing was.

* * *

It was dark. Night time to be exact, and the full moon had risen.

It cast an eerie glow, causing shivers to creep up her spine. The young women kept her jacket closer towards her chester, for comfort more than warmth. She knew was being stupid. Being afraid of the dark. The only thing she should be fearful of was horny old men that might rape and mug her, not monsters.

But then again she was just being paranoid. She had just finished watching a movie, a horror film with her friends. Maybe she should have played it safe with the cheesy and romantic comedy rather than the slasher film.

The young women drew a deep breath when she passed through a local park. She had never realized up until now just how creepy playgrounds could be at night. It was deserted, expect for her. And the twin set of wooden swigs swung slowly in the wind, rocking back and forth as if a ghost was controlling them.

She shivered, than continued walking. She picked her pace up, but that was not the reason for why her heart was beating faster. The sound of the snapping of twig behind her caused the young women's hands to shake with fright. She stopped dead in her tracks at sound of breathing. She could feel something breathing down her neck. She knew someone was there. She was frightened, but certain that however it was was someone just trying to creep her out. Probably one of friends. They were always playing pranks on her like that.

The young women turned around, expecting to see one of her friends. But instead what she came face to face with was something much much worse. She let out a high pitched scream, but then her lungs felt like they were failing. She tried to run, but the 'thing', the monster gripped tightly around her waist. It pulled her back. It's sharp claws pierced painfully into her skin. She let out another moan of pain. The monster was doing something to her. She did not what it was but suddenly she felt herself go numb. Her head became light. And her insides felt like they were going cold. She tried to struggle to break free from the monster's clutches, but it held her tight and continued torture her more. She looked down and noticed what the monster was doing. It was slowly draining her of all her blood. She let out one final scream, before it all went dark and her brain and organs failed. And everything went dark.

_**

* * *

**__**To be continued... **_

* * *


	5. Return of an Old Evil

**

* * *

****A/N: **Once again thank you to all that have reviewed and I just hope the story is not getting boring. As I have told a few people, I will be updating with a new chapter everyday. If not everyday than every second day I promise. But at the moment I don't have a lot of pressing school work so it is everyday. (I have no life. I get it.)

* * *

**-Chapter V-  
**'Return of an Old Evil'

Dean had done something he _never _would of imagined himself doing—well maybe if he were desperate he might of pictured himself doing it. Dean was seated in a police station. He was in the middle of two burly, tough looking biker guy's. One had long hair which was tied back in a ponytail, and the other had no hair at all. Although what was on their head may have been different, both had plenty of tattoos and wore plenty of leather. Dean looked very uncomfortable that moment in time. He couldn't help but feel like if one thing went wrong, or if he opened his mouth and said the wrong things—happened a lot! Then the two guy's next to him would have his head. Even in his situation Dean could not help but smile. "So?" he said, turning his head towards the long haired biker guy and then to the bald one. "Come down here often?" They didn't answer him, but Dean could pretty much guess that answer for himself. "I'll take that as a 'yes'" Dean said, with a smile.

Dean tried to divert his gaze away from the 'scary biker guys' and towards a young man that was seated on one of the chairs opposite him. The young man had his head buried in his hands, a young women with long red hair was seated next to him. She had her arms around his shoulders. She appeared to be trying to calm him down. Though it appeared to Dean that the harder that poor women tried, the harder the guy would cry.

Dean looked from 'scary biker guy' number one, then to 'scary biker guy' number two and then to stood up to sit on the opposite side—next to the the young man and women. That had been a decision that was _long _overdue. The young couple did not look at him when Dean decided to sit next to them. He could have sworn that the girl had glanced up, but the young man seemed more preoccupied with something else.

"Howdy" Dean said, giving the young couple a smile—one in which they did no return.

"Piss off pal" the young man said coldly, causing the girl to give the young man she had been comforting an irritated scowl.

"Don't talk to to people like that!" she said angrily, then turned away from the young man to face Dean. "I'm sorry about my brother" she said. Her tone of voice was much more calm when she spoke to Dean than it had been with her sibling.

"Your brother?" Dean asked. They didn't look much alike. He had them pegged as couple. Now he was beginning to feel rather embarrassed. At least he hadn't said anything.

The young women nodded. "He's just a little on edge, we both are."

"A little!?" the young man said, outraged. "I'm a long more than a little upset Paige. My girlfriend is dead for crying out frigging loud."

The young women, who Dean know knew to be Paige gave her brother a sympathetic yet irritated facial expression. It was a funny thing to see—well from Dean's perspective anyway. "Yes I know that Nate. But getting pissed off at every person we meet isn't helping much. Is it?" Nate scowled at his sister before slumping back in his chair.

"So that's why you're here?" Dean asked, and Paige gave him a small nod.

"Yes. My best friend Holly, who was also my brother's girlfriend" she answered. She seemed sad, her eyes were trailing towards the ground. But Dean couldn't blame her, nor did he blame Nate. Dealing with death was hard. But at least Paige and Nate knew where their friend's body was at least. What had happened to the poor chick. But Dean he had no idea and once again he was back to feeling a strong sense of angst. He suspected that Holly had been killed by this 'thing' that had been on a major killing spree as of late. So he knew it would be best to finally check out the crime scene. The closer he came to finding what this 'thing' was, the close he came to finding his brother.

"Listen" Dean said, turning to Paige. "I know this going to sound weird, and totally random. But where was your friend's body found?"

"Why do you ask?" Paige asked in amazement.

"Look I could tell you the truth, but you would swear I was crazy. You telling me where she was found will be doing me and the rest of this town a 'huge' favor" Dean gave Paige a hopeful look, and he was delighted when she gave him a small smile.

"Alright. I guess it couldn't hurt right? She was found in a local park, not so sure of the name but there's a row of shops just in front. I think there's some kind of magic shop there."

Dean smiled. "Thanks" Dean said before standing up. Before he turned on his heel and made a quick exist as fast and as far away from the police station as much as possible, he turned to give Paige a sympathetic stare. She smiled back at him, and then once again returned to comforting her brother Nate. Dean sighed. How he much wanted Sam with him at that moment. He never knew he could miss that little voice telling him to stop acting—well the way Dean would act. That voice had been Sam's, and as much as Dean led on to despise that that nagging voice, he seemed to miss it more than anything else right now. Even more than his beloved Impala—which he wanted to find just as much as he wanted to find Sam.

Dean had made his way towards the front door of the station, and was just about to turn the handle when he heard feet stopping behind him. That did not bother him so much, but the sound of a gun did.

Dean spun around and just in time too. He was face to face with two grim faced officers. They didn't appear to happy with him, causing him to wonder why that would be.

"Is there a problem?" Dean asked.

One of the officers—the one holding the gun let out a bark like laughter. "Not for us, but you on the other hand are screwed to hell—Dean Winchester."

_Dammit, _Dean thought bitterly to himself. This is exactly why he didn't want to come down here in the first place. To why he did he'll never have that answer. Now not only had he wasted enough time trying to find Sam, but now he had to ditch officers as well.

"You've gotta be kidding me" Dean muttered. Screwed to hell had been a major understatement.

* * *

Dean sat in an interrogation room. A place he was by far used to seeing by now. He sat on a chair, opposite another chair in front of large mirror that covered almost the entire wall. He knew what was on the other side, people watching him, listening to him. He had seen enough 'Law and Order' episodes to know how that stuff worked. 

Dean looked down at his wristwatch. Time was wasting and he wasn't the one that was wasting it—they were. He just had to wonder how the police knew who he was anyway. But then again, he had to remind himself his face had been plastered all over the Internet as a wanted criminal. But he was innocent. Like hell they'd ever believe that though. Dean's attention on the moving hands of his watch was quickly diverted to the sound of the door of the room bursting open. Dean could have fallen out of his chair—expect for the fact that he was cuffed to the table, when he saw he entered the room. It was that pain in the arse Hendrickson. The man was a thorn in both Dean and Sam's backside.

"Well well well Dean Winchester--"

"Live and in the flesh" Dean cut across, causing Hendrickson to merely give a dry laugh. Dean dearly wished that the man would not do that. Not only did it make him look like a complete 'tool' but he looked like he was trying to hard to be even remotely human. _Well there's something that he'll never achieve, _Dean thought with a broad grin on his face.

"Still with the cocky facade I see" Hendrickson commented while taking a seat opposite Dean. "One would have hoped you would have grown up since the last time we met."

Dean still contained smiling. Though his thoughts were not polite, and his smile was not a warm and fuzzy one but merely a cocky smirk. "No need for fancy words there. I am but a simple--"

"Scumbag?" Hendrickson asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well I was personally going to go with person, but scumbag seems to have a nice ring to it" Dean scoffed. Even face to face with someone he hated, Dean could not help but crack jokes. Though no one seemed to think they were too funny, besides him. At least Hendrickson didn't find his humor quite as adorable as the rest of the world did.

"You think you're funny, but I don't. You think you're smart, and again I sure as hell don't" Hendrickson said. Despite Dean's attitude, the man seemed to keep his temper. But Dean could sense that it was only matter of time before the man 'cracked'. "I've been chasing after you for a hell of a long time, Dean. If I'd have known you were this easy to find I would have slowed down."  
Dean smirked. "Well if I'd have known you'd needed the exercise that badly I would have kept you running a little longer" Dean scoffed.

"That's it!" Hendrickson snapped. Dean had been right. It had only been a matter of time before Hendrickson would erupt like a volcano. "I have been nice with you up until this point, Dean."

"That's what you call nice!?" Dean asked in astonishment.

"I have remained calm. To hell if I know why. You're a monster. I know what you are, and I also know you have something to do with those people's deaths."

Dean stopped smiling. "Oookkkaaayyy."

"You've killed before and I know you'll do it again. I want a confession, not that I really need one this new evidence I found on you is enough to hold you as a soul suspect for both Tessa Madison and Ross Green's deaths."

"Who!?" Dean asked.

"The victims you murdered!" Hendrickson snarled back. He held up a video tape, and Dean knew that it wasn't going to contain any cherish childhood memories of his.

"Oh right murdered" Dean said, sarcastically. "Right yeah. I drained their blood using needles—wow! I really am quite the master of evil huh?"

"Don't play games with me Dean" Hendrickson retorted coldly. "I've got hard evidence here that points you directly to the killing of Ross Green."

"Who?" Dean asked. He had never heard of a man called Ross Green before in his life.

"One of the victims you—oh never mind, just watch it dammit." Hendrickson placed the tape in a VCR. He turned the small television around to face Dean. Dean sat up with interest as soon as he saw the date in far corner of the screen. It was dated October 24, four days ago and three days before he had found himself bloody on the bathroom floor. This was perhaps "evidence" to Hendrickson, but to Dean it was more a missing piece of a puzzle that Dean had been working on for the past 24 hours straight.

Dean watched, his full attention on the screen in front of him. It was no romantic movie, that much he could say. Although in black and white, Dean could tell that it was nighttime. He didn't know how, but a feeling struck him. He saw a man—who he assumed to be Ross Green moving in a cemetery. They had security cameras in cemetery? Dean never knew. Perhaps he would have to check that as a mental note. Dean then moved his eyes towards two figures that were moving towards Ross. He recognized one of them to be him—and the other to be Sam.

_Sam, _Dean thought, looking at the small image of his brother and smiling. But what came next didn't make him smile. He watched in shock, or horror would be the more accurate term, as he (on the video) started attacking Ross. He watched as he took a swing at the man's head, and then yell something across to Sam. Dean's jaw dropped when he saw himself pull out the hunting knife he kept on him. He watched as the blade plunged in Ross's heart. Hendrickson had been right. Dean had killed him.

* * *

**_To be continued..._**

* * *


	6. Evil is Eternal

**

* * *

****A/N: **I'm sad to announce that I won't be updating for the next two days. This is my last chapter until Sunday. I apologize for this, but my mother is getting married in Saturday and as I am a bridesmaid I have a lot of work to do. I'll also be staying down the Gold Coast so I won't be able to post any updates, but I will have one ready on Sunday (Australian times, so Saturday for American's—I think that's right.) Who knows maybe I might even have two chapters. You'll have to wait and see.

* * *

**-Chapter VI-  
**'Evil is Eternal' **  
**

Dean stared, eyes wide, and mouth open at the paused screen. He gaped at Hendrickson, who was smiling while leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. Dean wanted nothing more than to smack that smart arse look right off Hendrickson's face, but he thought better off. It would only prove the agent's case more. But Dean couldn't help but wonder whether the video's had been tampered with. He wouldn't kill someone, ever. Not unless they were possessed by a demon, then he really didn't give a shit. But he had clearly stabbed that man in the heart. No blade could kill a demon. So what the hell was going on?

"Before you ask Dean, no these tapes have not be tampered with" Hendrickson said, not hiding the strong sense of satisfaction in his voice.

Dean had to wonder, as he sat there feeling numb and sore. Why Hendrickson hated him so much. I mean what had Dean done to piss the man off so much. Not that Dean cared a whole bunch. Because truth be told, Dean wasn't really much into authority figures—of any kind. One of the only reason's Dean had followed his father's orders was because that man had been his father. Hendrickson sure as hell wasn't.

"So?" Hendrickson leaned forwards. "How the hell are you going to get out of this one. You don't have your trusty sidekick with you I see?"

Dean gave a small nod. "Yeah, well you know sidekicks are so last season."

"Listen, Dean. I don't think you realize just how much trouble you are in here."

"Listen, Dude. I think I do" Dean said with a cocky smile. "You've booked me before. I'm sure you'll throw me in jail again, and I'm pretty sure I'll escape again."

"Not if you're dead!" Hendrickson snarled, causing Dean to frown.

"Isn't that illegal?" Dean asked.

"Not for you it isn't. And besides I really don't care. You're evil Dean, and evil is eternal. So I figure shoot you know, and I'll answer the questions later."

Dean stopped smiling when he saw the agent pull a handgun from his pocket. His trailed towards Hendrickson's face that was screwed up in a state of anger and pure hatred.

"Come now! We don't want to do something we might forget later" Dean said. He was panicked. Mostly because he had no weapons, and he was cuffed to the table. Hendrickson had all the power. And Dean knew if he didn't think fast his life could be over in a matter of minutes—maybe even seconds. Dean had to wonder though, if Hendrickson would actually pull the trigger. Dean knew the man hated him, but did he had him that much to become a murderer?

"Oh I won't regret this. In fact I'll regret not doing this" Hendrickson added with a sneer.

_Yes, _Dean thought. He answered the question he had asked himself before. Yes, Hendrickson did hate him enough. Dean could stay where he was, opposite Hendrickson with a cocked gun or he could think fast. He didn't know a way out this one. He was doomed for sure.

Dean tried to move, but the handcuffs wouldn't let him. Hendrickson laughed—he had gone mad, Dean was sure of it. Hendrickson placed his finger on the trigger, he was going to let go and fire.

Hendrickson was just about to pull the trigger when suddenly the door of the room swung open.

_Oh thank god! _Dean thought. _I'm saved. _But he wasn't—not really. Another officer stood in the doorway. His eyes were trailing from Hendrickson's gun in hand, pointed and cocked at Dean, to Dean who was struggling to break free from the cuffs.

"What the devil is going on here!?" the officer asked Hendrickson, who still was yet to lower his gun.

Dean could cheer when he found a paper clip, thanks to Hendrickson that was lying in reach on the table before him. But he would have to think better than cheering. It give away everything. Dean half listened as Hendrickson and the other officer got into blazing argument. Dean had to be on the other officer's side, because Hendrickson was still seriously wanting Dean dead. The other officer, however, thought it was a rash and completely stupid idea. One Dean had to fully agree on.

_Come one, _Dean thought, while trying to pick the lock. _Open sesame._

With one rather loud click, the locks of the handcuffs broke free. Dean looked up, just to check whether anyone had heard this or not. They hadn't. Good for him. Dean looked around him, now the locks were free he would have to think of some way to get out of this mess. He felt like an idiot walking into a police station. Not that he had been unarmed. He also carried a gun and knife with him, but he doubted Hendrickson would let him keep that on him. So Dean had been forced to give up his weapons. And now he felt slightly naked...vulnerable.

Hendrickson had placed his gun down on the table. Dean thought of reaching out to grab it, however Hendrickson would see him. The agent's hand was too close to his weapon. Dean would have to think of something else. But he would have to think of it fast. Time was ticking. He needed to get to that crime scene before someone else did.

Dean moved forwards, this time Hendrickson saw him—well heard him more like it.

"What do you think you're—how did you get out of those cuffs!?" Hendrickson asked. Dean could sense that the man was impressed, yet irritated at the same time. Dean, too was impressed. The agent could multi task. Who would have thought?

Dean didn't answer, instead he made one swift movement towards the gun. He successfully got it, by sliding across the table. He hit the wall, with a loud thud, but was quick to get on his two feet once again. He moaned. His ribs ached, and his injured hand burned. But he couldn't let his old injuries hold him back. Least of all in the middle of a crisis.

He moved towards Hendrickson, the officer too had taken out his handgun.

"Don't move, and drop the weapon" the officer demanded, but that wasn't going to work with Dean.

Dean dashed towards Hendrickson and the officer, who were now side by side. He gave the officer a swift kick to the head, causing the man to fly back into the wall. Dean had no time to check whether the officer was alright. He had Hendrickson to deal with now. Dean sent a punch Hendrickson's way, one the agent was easily able to counteract. Dean stumbled backwards, his leg hurt—but not due to the kick Hendrickson had given him, but from the injures before.

Dean briskly moved forwards, but once again Hendrickson saw him coming. With one swift movement of the agent's hand, he sent Dean flying back into the table.

Moaning, every where aching. Dean looked up. He could feel a new cut on his forehead. Feel the fresh and yet warm blood seep through the wound and through his jeans. Truth be known Dena had not expected Hendrickson to be so strong. If fact if Dean didn't know any better he could have sworn he was...

"You can't fight and win against me Dean" Hendrickson snapped. "I am one of many, one an army.." Just then Hendrickson's flashed black. Leaving from the blue colour they had been, to completely dark and...demonic.

"Why you demonic son of a bitch!" Dean cussed, causing the demon to smile broadly. "How long you been in him?"  
"Not long" the demon replied, with a sneer appearing across it's thin lips.

"Well" Dean said, standing up and moving towards the demon Hendrickson. "You won't be on this earth much longer, demon, cause I'm going to send your clown ass packing."

"You could try" the demon said coolly. "And then you will fail. Like I said before, I am but one of many. And nothing you or your pathetic, baby brother can do can stop this war."

"Don't" Dean threatened. "Insult my brother in front of me."  
"Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it? See I know all about you Dean about the deal you made to save your brother. But are sure he even is your brother anymore."  
"Shut up!" Dean ordered. "Or I'll shoot you in the head."

The demon let out a bark of laughter. "Oh yeah, and what is that going to do to me. It can't kill me, surely you must know that."  
"I'm aware" Dean said, smiling. "But it will hurt like hell."

The smile faded from Hendrickson's face when Dean fired the bullet in his heart. Dean was not stupid, he knew it wouldn't kill him. But it gave Dean that quick getaway he needed. Hendrickson toppled backwards, making it even easier for Dean to slip through the doors. He ran down the hallway, not looking back. His heart pounded, his legs and every other muscle ached the worst pain he had ever felt. But he didn't let that slow him down. He reached the door doors, pushing them open with his non injured hand, and was once again in the bright and warm sunlight. Now he had to find Sam, whether it was the last thing he did. But first thing was first. He had to get some holy water. Just to be on the safe side. Hendrickson was a demon. Dean would have never of saw that one coming.

* * *

The demon, Hendrickson, slowly stood up. He was in no pain, but his blood was boiling with anger and hatred. He hated Dean Winchester. He hated all the Winchester boy's, starting from their father John. But even though Dean had escaped, all the demon could do was laugh—laugh a cold and high pitched laugh. Yes Dean may of escaped him. But what the demon would have done was nothing compared to the slow and excruciating death that was in store for him. And he wasn't talking about when the young man would be going to hell, but the 'things' that were in town at the moment. So he laughed. Stood there and laughed. There was a monster in town and Hendrickson seriously doubted that Dean would be able to stop it. It was a smart creature, ancient and powerful. In fact Hendrickson was disappointed that he would not be there to watch as the creature shred Dean and Sam Winchester limb from limb. **_

* * *

_****_To be continued... _**

* * *

**  
**


	7. The Black Book

**

* * *

****A/N: **Alright sorry for the delay. I know I promised you a chapter on Sunday, but I didn't get back until late...sorry. Wedding was great, not much more to say expect I need to detox now for the next few days—too much cake!! Anyway on with the chapter. Sorry to keep you all in suspense.

* * *

**-Chapter VII-  
**'The Black Book'

Sam tilted his head to one side. His vision was blurry, perhaps due to the lack of food he had inside his stomach. His eyes were watering as he tried to his best to keep them open. An attempt he was failing at. Sam could not keep his eyes open any longer. He felt a strong pain in his stomach, his ribs, his temple and in the back of his eyes. The room around him was dark, too dark to be normal. Through half closed eyes Sam tried to get a closer look at the hooded stranger who seemed to be knelling near an alter. Sam was complexed, dazed more than anything else. He could have sworn these 'things' were demon, monster at least. But they were neither...they were just people. Evil, cruel and unjust people.

Sam still did not know what they wanted, but he knew it could be in no means good. The girl, the one whom he had met before and learned that her name was Brie had her head leaned on his shoulder. Her tangled mess of Ebony black hair was covering her bloody face. Sam felt sorry for her, than again who wouldn't? The poor girl had been down in that dungeon for at least two weeks more than he had been.

Sam could feel the young women's slow and feeble breath against his skin. He let out a soft sigh. He had only been chained to the wall for a few days now, he had kept count. But just like Brie had said before, it felt like months. Sam had to wonder whether Dean was looking for him. But of course he would be...at least that's what Sam was hoping for. But than again, Sam was starting to feel very afraid for Dean. Sam had been missing for a few days now, three days maybe four and Dean had not yet found him. A strange, and very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach suggests that something is wrong. Dean was hurt—perhaps even dead.

_No, _Sam thought. But even thinking made his head hurt. He wanted nothing more than to scream. Scream at the top of his lungs. But not only would no one hear him, but Sam was unsure whether or not he was even able to make a sound anymore. The last time he had tried to talk, that had been to Brie. He had tried to comfort her, explain to her that everything would be alright—even though Sam didn't even believe his words. But lately not only had Sam stopped lying to Brie, and himself, but his voice seemed to become raspy, week and the only sound that seemed to come out of his mouth when he tried to talk was that of a soft wheeze.

The hooded stranger kept turning to look at Sam. Sam now knew that the hooded figure was a female. He had not seen her face, but he had heard her voice. She had been talking to someone, someone who seemed important. Sam was unclear as to who or whom that was.

The women gave Sam a sneer before turning towards the alter again. Sam could see that she was holding something in her hands, something for some_thing _to see. Sam leaned slightly forwards, squinting his eyes for a better look. He would, but couldn't gasp at what he saw. Sitting in the palm of the women's hands was a hart. A fresh, bloody and gruesome hart and Sam had the most nauseating feeling that the hart had once belonged to a person. He was most likely right to.

Sam tried to lean more forwards, but the chains that bound him to the walls would not allow him to do so. He swore in his head, a word that should not be permitted in the English language. The women was now speaking, speaking to something—someone, and in a language Sam could not understand fluently. But he recognized some words, enough to realize that the women was speaking in Japanese. Sam only recognized a few words here and there because he had studied Japanese as a subject at school for two years. He had not continued with the language. At the time Sam had not been that disappointed, but now he was beside himself with annoyance.

Sam tore his eyes away from the women and towards the 'young women' that was chained up next to him. She looked up at him, long black hair still covering her eyes and face. Sam gave her a weak expression. It had meant to be a smile, a warm and friendly smile, but it had came out as something as a worried look. Sam could sense that she wanted to cry. Her eyes welled with tears as she gazed up at him. She was scared.

"Everything is going to be okay" Sam whispered. Even he could feel that his words were empty, and she could sense that too.

"Everything will _not _be alright" she hissed back. "How can it be? We're chained to a wall dumb arse!"

Sam did not feel hurt at these words, because he had not believed his own words anyway. Perhaps he was just hoping if he said 'everything would be okay' for long enough than suddenly everything would be alright. Everything would be okay. But Sam could not convince himself any more than he could Brie. Sam was beginning to give up hope. Was Dean ever going to come and try and help him? Did his older brother even care?

_Of course he does, _Sam thought. He was arguing with his own thoughts. _The guy may be a pain in the arse at times, but he sold his soul for me. How can I say that he doesn't care. _

Sam looked away from Brie's tear filled eyes and towards the women who was now walking towards them. Her long robe trailed the ground behind her. She gazed at both Sam and Brie, a hunger lingered in her eyes. Sam could not see much of the women's face expect for her mouth. She licked her lips, staring hungrily at Sam. The women started to circle around him, much like a shark did the minutes before feeding time. The women pulled a long, sharp and blood stained knife out of her pocket. Her lips pulled into an evil cracked smile as she moved her hand towards Sam's arm, the blade along with it. Sam gasped out in agony as the knife touched his skin, slicing into his flesh. Fresh, and warm blood began to seep through the newly cut wound, and immediately the women pulled a basin towards the cut. She began to gather his blood in the bowl, making Sam feel more sick than he already had been. He leaned towards the basin, to get a closer look to what was inside it. But he couldn't get much of a look. The women pulled his head back, causing a few strands of his hair to rip from his scalp at the touch of her long and sharp finger nails.

"Who are you!?" Sam snapped. He glared at the women, his eyes were full of deepest loathing. "What do you want with us?"

The women did not answer, but merely laughed in response. "Us!?" she repeated. This was the first time Sam had heard the women speak. Her tone of voice was harsh, cold and direct. It seemed to send shivers up Sam's spine. "There will be no 'us' anymore" she sneered.

"What does that mean?" Sam asked. But he had the sneaking suspicion he knew what. One of them—meaning Sam or Brie was going to die.

The women gave him a corrupt grin, and then lifted the knife. She moved towards Brie, who was looking fearfully at the women. Brie let out a scream as the knife moved towards the young women's throat. It only took a second, a second in which Sam could not even blink to miss. Brie was dead. The women had sliced her head off. Sam tried not to look as what had once been the young women Brie's head that rolled towards his feet. He closed his eyes tight. He could tear the women's laugh, but he did not care. Sam wanted to kill that women. His heart longed for the moment. But he couldn't do much now. It was all in due time. But how much time? How much time did Sam have left?

* * *

Dean leaned against the brick wall of a building. He was standing in an alleyway, waiting for a police car to pass him by. It had been only a few hours since he had escaped from Hendrickson and his cronies. Dean knew he was screwed to all hell. How would he ever be able to find Sam now that Hendrickson was out there looking for him. Dean gulped what felt like a lemon down his throat. Dean moved his eyes towards the park that was now in front of him. It was the park in which the body of that young women was found. But Dean could not risk having a look around there—which had originally been the plan of action. He had been forced to scrap that plan after his encounter with Hendrickson, because Dean could not risk going anywhere that was going to be invested with more police officers. So Dean had been forced to move on to plan B. What was plan B you might ask? Well Dean had been listening when Holly's friends had told him that a magic shop was located just before the park. Dean had listened very carefully. So that is where he was headed, or more so was already at.

Dean moved swiftly and carefully towards the shop. He stopped outside the door. The windows were shut. Curtains draped them, black and dusty looking curtains. Dean moved towards the door. It was shut, locked. A small sign was attached to the other side of the glass reading 'sorry we are closed'. Dean cussed under his breath. This was going to make his life a whole lot harder. He ran towards the side of the building, and looked up. A small window—one that was not concealed with black curtains. Dean looked around for a few seconds before putting his fist through the glass. He shifted away the remains of the glass before climbing inside the window.

Once inside, Dean took a good look around. He noticed that this was no 'magic shop' where they sold magic wands and black top hats that you could pull a rabbit out of. The shop was instead dedicated entirely to the dark arts. Dean felt goosebumps appear up and down his spine just at the thought of it. Hoodoo magic. But not the same mojo that was used to heal people, and cast harmless little spells, but the real thing.

Dean walked briskly through the room. The floorboards beneath his feet creaked. He tried his best not swear as his shoulder hit a large crate near the counter. He nursed his shoulder blade, which was hurting him badly.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered as he looked towards a black book that was lying on the counter. He moved towards it, and lifted the large and heavy book into his arms. A symbol was etched into the leather cover. Dean knew he had seen that symbol somewhere, but couldn't quite figure out where exactly he had seen it. It irritated him somewhat greatly. He held the book in his hands, leaning his back on the glass counter. He flipped open the front cover, and stared down at the yellowed pages that now were before his eyes. It wasn't the fact that the book looked so creepy that freaked Dean out most, but the fact that pages were empty. No text, nor pictures were before him. Not even a water mark. Dean flipped through the rest of the book—nothing.

"What the f--?" Dean mouthed, but was unable to finish his sentence because the sound of a cocked gun behind him caused Dean to stop. Dean spun around, not knowing exactly what he was getting himself into. He expected to see a police officer behind him, but he had been wrong. A young women, the one whom he had met earlier—Candace stood now in front of him. She stood glaring at him. Her eyes never left his. But Dean was more preoccupied with the gun she was holding in her hands. What was a nurse doing with a gun, and in a hoodoo shop. Unless she wasn't a nurse at all? Well that was sort of obvious now.

"Don't move" Candace warned, the gun still raised.

"Or what?" Dean asked. "You gonna shoot me. 'Cause I could sure use the adrenaline right about now."

"And I could sure shoot you in the skull right about now" Candace snapped.

Dean bit his lower lip. He had no weapons. He only had the large book he held in his hands—but that was going to be no good. How was he going to get out of this one?

_**

* * *

**__**To be continued...**_

* * *

**  
**


	8. Harvest

**

* * *

****A/N: **Once again a big thank you to everyone that has reviewed and I hope you are still enjoying what you read. Because if no one was bothering to read it, I probably wouldn't of continued writing this story. Which would be ashame because I have big plans for this one, and a few more after this. I won't say much more than that.

* * *

**-Chapter VIII-  
**'Harvest'

"_I could sure shoot you in the skull right about now."_

These words echoed through Dean's mind. He was frozen on the spot, unknowing as to what to do. He was cornered with no weapon in sight. He just stood there, staring dumbstruck at the young blonde women who was standing before him, a gun pointed in his direction. Dean had thought at first that she was bluffing, but after a several minutes he had to come to terms with the fact that this crazy chick was dead serious.

"You could easily miss" Dean said, eyebrow raised. He thought this was very unlikely. Sure he could move fast, but could he outrun a bullet?

"I don't think so" Candace replied coolly. "You see I will shoot you. Whether it be in the head, heart or even in the arm. Either way that bullet is going to do more than just graze you my friend."

"I'm hardly your friend" Dean said. There was a coldness to his tone of voice. But who could blame him. He had liked Candace when he first met her. Thought she was nice, sweet but now he was beginning to come to terms with his perception on people was _way _off. Dean did not bother looking around for a weapon. He knew that a knife was bound to be around the shop somewhere, but he couldn't risk it. Dean could risk moving, even blinking when a gun was pointing so near to his skull.

"So this is how it's gonna be?" Dean asked.

"You bet cha" Candace replied smugly. "Maybe next time you'll think twice about killing all them people. Oh wait you won't because you'll be in hell."

"What!?" Dean gasped. "Killed? I didn't kill anyone!"

"Yeah...right!" Candace snapped. "And like I'm supposed to believe that. You see I've been on to your lot for quite some time and from what I gather you and your brother--"

"You don't know shit about my brother lady" Dean snarled. Sam was a soft spot to him. Perhaps it was the big brother thing he had going on. But Dean despised when demons used Sam against him. The evil son of a bitches knew it hit a nerve. It didn't make him sad, like Dean knew that Demons must think, but it just made the guy furious.

"Wanna bet?" Candace responded. "I know enough to pin point you both to the murder of Ross Green. And I also happen to know what Sam really is. Which makes me wonder why on earth you're still alive. If it's true what they say, about Sam being the Antichrist and all, then why are you still breathing free air?"

"Sam is _not _a demon" Dean said through gritted teeth.

"Well he sure as hell has demonic powers" Candace retorted.

"Yeah which he doesn't have anymore" Dean said. He was beginning to become rather hot tempered. His blood was boiling, he could practically feel it pulsing through his veins. But he had to wonder why Candace would accuse him of murder. True he had killed Ross, that part he knew. But how did she? Did she happen to the know him, before he lost his memory and was just playing shy with him in the hospital. Was she behind all these attacks? But then Dean had to think twice about this last question. He had to ask himself why, if she were behind these attacks, would she accuse him of draining all those victims blood. It didn't make any sense. In fact it was confusing the hell out of Dean.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, but Candace didn't respond. Neither did she lower the gun. "I'll ask again, and this time I'm gonna get testy. Who the hell are you? Because you sure aint a nurse." Again Candace didn't respond, causing Dean to feel even more frustration. His time to find Sam was running low. Sam's life was ticking away, and Dean didn't have time to stop and chit chat with some psycho chick that thought of Sam as the Antichrist. Honestly if the women had even met, nor even knew as much as she was letting on about Dean's young brother than she would know that Sam couldn't hurt a fly let alone anyone. Honestly Sam would pray before he went to bed every night. Does that sound like someone who is up to their ankles in all that devil crap.

"Alright, whoever you are. I'm gonna vacate now. It was nice meeting you and I hope I shall never have to see you again. But if I should happen to do so, I will make sure that I will be the one pointing a gun in your direction. Then we're square. Catch ya later" Dean said, but the young women would not let him pass. She just remained, feet firmly on the ground. There was not much space between her, a couple of book shelves to the entrance. If Dean wanted to get away, he would have to think of something else. And none of them required the kindness of his heart.

"I don't think so Dean" she said with a twisted smile appearing on her face. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what you did with the surviving victims. And yes I know they're are survivors." Candace added this last sentence due to the look of shock, and open mouthed stare Dean was giving her. She thought he was the one that was killing, and kidnapping all them people. She was nuts!

"Listen. I'm not the one that is killing all them people." Dean said. He was trying to reason with her. God only knows why. Because even Dean knew that no matter what he was to say she wouldn't believe him anyway. But Dean did not have time to to talk to her. He was leaving the cult shop, one way or another. If he had to kick her down on his way out, than so be it.

"Like I believe one word that comes out of your mouth" she said fervently. "You're a liar. I saw you kill Ross in cold blood. Ross was a good friend of mine, so if you're going to give me some lame ass story telling me otherwise than you can forget it dude."

"What is with you people!?" Dean asked. "What is with this whole 'me killing some random guy' thing. I knew met the guy okay? I never saw him, nor spoke to him in my life--"  
"But you sure as hell stuck a knife through his chest" Candace cut across.

Dean could feel his fists clenching. He was grinding his teeth, anger poured through him like hot blood. He wanted nothing more than to punch her, right there and then. Knock that smart arse persona right of her. But he had to control himself. Not only did he not hit girls—unless they were possessed, but Dean knew that she was on his side. She must be a cop...or she was hunter like Dean was.

"Who are you?" Dean asked again.

"Candace" the young women answered sarcastically. "You already know that one. Demon."

"Whoa whoa whoa" Dean said, raising a hand to silence her. "I'm no demon sweetheart. I'm a hunter, it's my job to hunt those evil S.O.B's."

"A hunter?" she asked. But she seemed familiar with the term. "A demon hunter. Now I see. You must be Dean Winchester. John Winchester's boy. But just because I knew your daddy doesn't mean I'm gonna get along with you or your demonic bro."

"Hey!" Dean snapped. "Sam is no demon, alright. Seriously the guy doesn't have the stuff in him to kill anyone. Trust me. And how the heck do you know my father."

"Through my father" Candace answered simply put. "Short story. They were friends, worked on a hunt or two together, and then had a falling out. Happens."

"That sounds about right" Dean said. Through the years Dean had noticed that his father had had a falling out with practically everyone he had ever met. It made Dean smile quite a bit, because now he knew that his father was in a better life. The here after...or whatever. But it had defiantly wiped Dean's conscience clean when Dean and Sam had seen there father just a few months ago, just after Dean had killed the yellow-eyed demon and just before John had 'moved on'. Dean's father had been banished to hell because of Dean, and at least now Dean could sleep better at night knowing that his father was in a much better place—and with their mother. Personally Dean wasn't that much of a believer in heaven. But he did believe in some kind of after life. There had to be something after life. After all you didn't just drop dead and than that was it.

Candace was giving him a confused, yet wary look. She had finally lowered her gun, but she still did not keep her eyes of his own. She watched him like a hawk and Dean was fearful that if he made any sudden movements she would shoot him. Candace looked like the type of women you did not want to mess with. Perhaps it was the fact that she had weapon and he didn't, or maybe it was the way she glared at him. Not even blinking nor making a sound. The breath that came from her mouth was soft, hardly even able to be heard. She stood comfortably, just gazing at him with hatred in her eyes. Why she hated him he did not know. But Dean knew that she was _very _intimidating

"Are you a hunter?" Dean asked.

"Not really" Candace replied. "I have a job. One I'm good at. But when I notice a gig here or there I tend to take to the road. But mostly it's either because I'm really bored or because someone I love has been killed by someone I hate."

Dean's eyes widened. He let out a long whistle. "Strong words there sweetheart. Honestly how can you hate someone you barely even know?"

"Easy" Candace replied simply. "I can judge persona real well. And from you all I am getting is negative vibes. Or maybe I just hate you because I witnessed you thrusting a blade into my friend's heart. I don't know but I think door number two sounds about right to me."

"You were there?" Dean asked and she nodded. He was beginning to feel shaky. An empty and uncomfortable feeling appeared inside him. Uneasy, and palms sweating Dean looked at Candace with sorrow in his eyes. He had killed someone, in cold blood. He had not been a demon, but a person. Dean had killed a human being. But why? There had to be a reason there just had to be. Dean didn't just go around stabbing people. He was no idiot.

"What you don't remember!?" Candace asked, she seemed surprised too as Dean shook his head.

"Nothing" he answered. "I woke up on the floor in my motel room. With nothing. I was lying in a pool of blood, no memory as to how I got there. It didn't take long for me to realize that my brother was missing. So I set out, trying to find him. That's when I met you, and a few more people and learned what was going around here. I figured whatever was behind these attacks had my brother so that's why I'm here and that's what I'm doing. You have to believe me. And you also have to believe that I would never kill anyone unless they were a foe."

Dean could tell that Candace was thinking this over. She gave him a rare smile, one Dean returned. He had convinced her—about time too.

"So what have you got so far?" she asked, walking towards him to take a look at the black leather book Dean was still cradling in his arms.

"Not much" Dean answered. He held up the book so she could get a closer look. "I found this though. Completely empty...and then again I got nothing. You?"

"Quite a bit" she said taking the book from his hands to get a closer look. As she flipped through the blank pages she began to explain what she had. "I know a cult is behind it all. I'm just not sure what one, but I know they're pretty bad ass. I know they take some victims..not exactly sure why but they need them for something. They chain them up for a few weeks, if they are still alive still healthy than they feed them to something--"

"To what?" Dean asked. Even though this was all bad news, Dean couldn't help but feel slightly at ease. If this were true than Sam could still be alive. There was still hope.

"I don't know" she replied. "But I know something is going down. Just not sure what."

"Where are they kept?" Dean asked, and again Candace shrugged.

"I don't know, but I know it's somewhere hidden. Good thing is this town is not so big. I haven't been able to get a good look around but I'm guessing in an abandoned warehouse of some kind or--"

"The sewers" Dean cut across. He suggested this because it was the perfect place. He remembered too well how shapeshifters would use the underground as their way of getting around. It was perfect.

"So what exactly do they want?" Dean asked.

"No so sure" Candace answered. "But I do know that they're running out of time. They're trying to rack up a large body count. It's a harvest. And your brother, Sam, if he is still alive than he is going to be lunch meat for some kind of monster they're keeping hidden down there."

Dean gulped. That was in no means comforting.

_**

* * *

**__**To be continued...**_

* * *


	9. Crossed, Double Crossed

**

* * *

****A/N: **Alright sorry for the delay, I've been doing a lot of school work as of late. Also I typed a new chapter (this one) on Friday but unfortunately my Internet wasn't working. :( anyway now it is working so I have been able to update :) So I hope you like this new chapter.

* * *

**-Chapter IX-  
**'Crossed, Double Crossed'

Dean hated sewers.

Dean looked around, it was dark. Too dark. Every time he walked along the tunnel another puddle of water splashed around his feet, causing the hem of his jeans to be covered in water and his shoes and socks to be completely saturated. Dean cussed under his breath. He turned around, Candace seemed to be having the same problem as he was. But unlike Dean who was wearing his leather jacket, Jeans and biker boots she wore a short casual dress and high peep toe shoes. Dean could see goosebumps trailing up and down her arm. She was cold and too right. The water was not only dirty but cold also. Dean swore once again as a rat skidded past him. He hated rats. They were vile and horrible little creatures. Mainly the only reason why he hated them was because they seemed to have a knack for showing up whenever Dean was opening a cupboard in an abandoned house that was haunted. It freaked him out most of the time.

"You're scared of rats?" Candace said in a mock filled tone of voice. "Wow that is so...pathetic."

"Yeah thanks" Dean retorted. Even though Candace's words sounded harsh, Dean knew that she was only being sarcastic. Or was she? As they walked further along through the sewers Dean couldn't help but notice that Candace seemed to have a habit of glancing his way very often. Every time Dean would turn around and catch her she would immediately turn away. But that wasn't what put Dean on edge. When Candace glanced at him it wasn't a friendly look but an evil, hungry look that caused Dean to feel slightly uncomfortable while in her presence. Dean decided to keep a good meter away from Candace as he walked—she was really starting to freak him out.

They seemed to be walking forever and so far Dean could not see any sign of Sam or anyone else for that matter. But there may not have been people but there sure were plenty of rats and other things.

"Shit!" Dean cursed as he stepped into something slimy on the floor. He bent down, lowered his flashlight on what he now recognized was skin. With one hand still holding the flashlight he used his other to shift the flesh around. At first Dean had thought it had once belonged to a shape shifter because when they changed form they shed their skin, but it wasn't. It looked human. As Dean looked around he noticed some small bones nearby. They looked human too. Probably from the same person that had become someone or more likely some thing's dinner.

"There's some blood over here!" Candace called to him, pointing towards a rather large puddle of blood. "Yuck. Do you think it's from the same person?" she asked as Dean appeared at her side.

"I'd say that's a definite possibility" Dean said. He couldn't help feeling sick in the stomach at the sight of everything. He had to wonder if it was from the same thing that had been killing all those people. Or if it was something else entirely. Something else that had already been killed. Clearly Candace had been thinking along the same lines as well because she was quick to respond.

"I'd say this is from the same thing that has been killing all them people" she said.

Dean looked confused. "Why do you say that? I mean doesn't this _thing _drain humans of their blood? Why would it just leave some blood behind? Because that is a fair amount of blood to leave. What did it get full after snacking all them bones and flesh or something?" he asked. Dean didn't mean to offend her, but she didn't seem to think his words had been friendly.

"It seems fresh. Dean" she snapped, causing Dean to gape at her for a few minutes. "Either we put it down to the 'thing' that we know has been on a killing spree, or we can waste our time trying to find something else when most of the people is this town are being drained by some kind of cult and their pet monster."

"So you knew my father?" Dean asked, changing the subject. She glanced at him, and smiled.

"Yes I did" she answered. "A long time ago" she briskly added.

Dean narrowed his eyes, but away from her. He didn't exactly trust her. Something about this entire situation seemed...off...to Dean. Why would she want to help him? Sure she wanted to kill this monster thing, but something didn't seem right to Dean. Why hadn't his father ever mentioned her before. And wasn't her name in their father's phones or even journal? Most importantly Candace had been so convinced that Dean had killed that Green guy and that Sam was the Antichrist. Why had she so suddenly believed that Dean was telling the truth? And why if Ross had been a friend of hers would she work along side him? She had something up her sleeve. Dean knew it for sure.

* * *

Sam had his eyes tightly shut.

Sam had been forced to keep his eyes shut. Every time he attempted to open his eyes his head would ache. His limbs were hurting, and it seemed that every organ in his body was failing, going to burst at any given moment. Worst of all Sam was still tied to the wall. The ropes that bound him had begun to burn the skin around his wrists and ankles. And the worst part was, that every time Sam tried to move around, loosen them, the ropes would only pull tighter. Sam let out a slight whimper. He needed his brother. He needed someone...anyone but that chick in the robes that kept coming back to him. She was evil. But the best part was Sam had not seen her for awhile now. The last time he had seen her was when she had sliced Brie's head of her neck. Sam had tried not to watch all that as it all unfolded before his very eyes. But he still had the image in his head. Every time Sam closed his eyes he still saw the look of horror on the poor girl's face as that bitch had killed her. It was dark, but Sam still knew that Brie's body was still beside him. Not only could he still feel her cold and dead skin brush against his, but he could smell the strong scent of rotting flesh and blood nearby. Sam could only hope that Dean would rescue him soon.

Sam could have sworn he had heard his brother before. It had been the word 'Shit'. Not a nice word, but at least Sam had heard him. Or had he? Sam had not had a decent amount of food or water in the past few days now. Was he perhaps just hearing things? Was Sam still holding tightly on the fact that Dean would save him so badly that he would imagine hearing his older brother's voice? But Sam was sure that he had not been hearing things. He just knew deep in his gut that Dean was in the tunnels looking for him. He just knew it.

Sam looked over at the corner of the room. His head pounded something fierce as he squinted his eyes to get a closer look at the alter. A black book was lying on top of the table. Something Sam knew had not been there before. Not that he particularly cared about some book. He had been glancing over at the corner of the room every so often because Sam could swear that he heard noises coming from there. They didn't sound human. In fact they didn't seem to sound like any animal or creature Sam had ever heard before in his life. The noise was a slow and hungry growl. Sam heard scratching on the floor. It hurt his ears. The scratching sounded much like fingernails scratching on a blackboard. It was horrible. Whatever that creature was. Sam was sure that it wasn't going to be no puppy.

* * *

Dean and Candace came to a sudden stop. He looked around. Cautious not to make a sound. He could of sworn he had heard something, so he had stopped and had motioned for Candace to do the same thing also. Candace seemed to be rather annoyed at him because they had stopped but Dean ignored her.

"Why did we stop?" Candace asked in a affronted tone.

Dean silenced her by holding up his hand. She scowled at him. Dean ignored her once again. He was trying to listen out for another sound. He wasn't exactly sure what he had heard but it had sounded like voices—human voices followed now by footsteps.

"Someone's coming" Dean whispered. He gripped Candace tightly but the shoulder and moved her to the edge of the tunnels. There wasn't many places to hide in the sewer, so Dean and Candace were forced to duck under a large pipe. Dean just hoped that they could not be seen where they were. Dean listened carefully. The footsteps were coming closer—closer to them.

"Why are we hiding? Why don't we just fight them?" Candace asked.

"Do you use your common sense would you" Dean hissed back. "We don't know how many there are. And secondly we don't know what they are."

"Fine" Candace snapped. "We'll just sit here all day with our thumbs up our arses while some maniacs feed your brother to a monster."

Dean turned to give Candace a hate filled stare. Nothing short of loathing was what he felt for that young women at that very moment in time. He was growing tired of having to explain himself to her and the more he did the more he had doubts that she was a hunter at all. If her father was a hunter, and she had been brought up by him than wouldn't she have more common sense? Wouldn't she know better than to jump out at the first set of voices and footsteps they hear? And she know better than to trust a complete stranger? Most hunters that Dean had met proffered to work alone, yet she didn't. Why? Because she wasn't a hunter. She wasn't on his side. She had led him into a trap. He knew it.

Dean stood up, moved away from her, and eyed the young women. He didn't trust her. She stood up also, now facing opposite him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, startled. "Didn't you just say to hide?"

"Yeah" Dean said. "But I little did I know it's you I should be hiding from."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Candace asked, raising her voice slightly.

"I think you know what it means" Dean answered. "You thought you could trick me didn't you? But I aint stupid" Dean moved his hand towards his pocket and pulled out the handgun he had stolen from the police officer hours ago. He cocked it, and pointed it directly at her heart.

"What the hell?" Candace asked, eying the gun with fear in her eyes. "What's gotten into you?"  
Dean grinned. "Little lesson, Candy don't trust strangers. I sure as hell won't be again. Now tell me where my brother is."

_**

* * *

**__**To be continued...**_

* * *


	10. What Awaits Us In The Dark

**-Chapter X-  
**'What Awaits Us In The Dark'

"_Now tell me where my brother is."_

Dean's last comment was more of a demand then a question. He glared at her with a loathed stare. She still looked baffled by the whole thing. Candace just looked from the gun to Dean's facial expression with a mix of fear and concern upon her own face. Dean didn't buy it for one moment. She wasn't innocent, just like he wasn't stupid. Dean knew Candace had been playing him. But no more. Because he was on to her now.

"You're insane, you know that?" Candace said, her voice was weak and shaky. "I don't know where your brother is. I suggest you just put the gun down--"

"And what?" Dean said. "Become a much easier target for I wonder. Sorry sweetheart but I aint gonna buy into that kinda crap."

"You're crazy!" Candace exclaimed. "Look people are coming. Probably the same people that have your brother. Now we can stand around here all day and question each other, but I really think it's time we move. If you want to question anyone question them when they get here."

"I don't think so" Dean said, he laughed at her words. He knew she was not innocent. Dean had been hunting long enough to spot someone evil from a mile. Well basically all it required this time was common sense. Something Dean had plenty of. Candace had not known their father. She had lied. Just like she had lied about being a hunter. Dean knew that she was tied up with the cult in some way, but if she thought for one second that he was going to let her go without a scratch than she must be stupid.

"I'm not evil Dean. I'm a hunter, just like you."

Dean laughed at these words as well. Seriously he never thought of Candace as being the sarcastic one. "I doubt we're the same. You see unlike you I aint evil, and unlike you I don't go killing innocent people."

"It wasn't the cult that killed those people Dean" Candace corrected. "It was something else."

"Oh yeah!?" Dean said, raising an eyebrow. "And what awaits us in the dark?"

Candace looked away from a few moments, an attempt to hide her facial expression from him. When she turned her gaze her gaze away from the ground, she looked up at him, her eyes were cold and deadened. "A monster" she replied with a evil grin.

Before Dean could pull the trigger, or even attempt to get away, the young women hit him with a swift side kick to the head. Dean stumbled for a second before falling to the ground. The last thing he saw was the cold eyes of Candace, and then everything went black.

* * *

Dean's eyes were still shut. He tried to open them though every time he did it felt like something in his head was searing and on fire. He could not feel his hands, he assumed that he was bound by rope as he could feel it cutting into his wrists. He tried to move his hands, his feet, though every time he it as if the ropes were becoming tighter. The pain seared. He could feel that the old wound in his forehead had been reopened, and new cuts were probably on his face. He could feel dry blood on his skin, and he could also hear a soft whimper that was close to him. 

Dean opened his eyes, even though the pain was unbearable. He turned his head to get a better look at the young man that was tethered to the same grimy wall that he was chained to. Dean let out a gasp as he noticed who it was. It was Sam. Dean just gazed for a few moments at the state that his younger brother was. He hated seeing him so bloody and beaten. Sam looked terrible. All the colour and life had been drained from him. He had his eyes closed. His lip was swollen, and his eyes had dark circles underneath. As well as a number of deep cuts some old and some new a heap of bruises covered almost his entire face.

"Sam!?" Dean hissed, but there was response. Dean had felt a strong sense of joy rush over him when he had fist seen his brother's face. Sam was safe, but alive—that one Dean would have to find out for himself.

"Sam!?" Dean whispered again. This time his tone of voice was starting to sound more desperate, more angst filled. He started to panic. What if Sam wasn't okay? What if he was dead? What if all his blood had been drained just like the rest of those people's victims.

The more Dean looked at Sam the more he started to realize that his blood had not been drained. True his younger brother looked worse than death but at least his flesh wasn't sagging from his bones like that more Tessa chick Dean had examined in the morgue.

"Sam!?"

Dean felt his heart skip a beat as Sam's eyes suddenly snapped open. After being slightly panicked and completely caught off guard, Dean felt relief wash over him. Sam was alive. His brother was okay. Dean was okay, beaten to death but never less okay. Now all they had to do was get out of that crazy job, a task Dean knew was going to be no easier than it sounded. Whoever had put them there had put them there for a reason and they weren't going to just let Dean and Sam walk or more so limp out of there. It wasn't going to be easy.

"Dean!?" Sam whispered. His tone of voice was scratchy and weak. He looked at his older brother, tears filling his eyes. Dean wanted nothing more than to hug his baby brother right there and then. But it wasn't the right time and even if it were they were both bound to a wall.

"Yeah?" Dean said. He looked at Sam for a few moments, tears welled in his eyes. "I found you."  
"Not the way I would have liked" Sam laughed.

The laughter in Sam's tone of voice gave him life once again, and it made Dean give his brother a warm smile. "I've been looking for you. Man you're beat to hell."

"Talk for yourself" Sam said, smiling. "You look in pretty bad shape to me. Looks like you haven't slept in days."

"I haven't" Dean answered, honestly. "Dude I've been worried about trying to save your ass."

Sam laughed. "Yeah well you found me."

"Yeah" Dean said. "But I gotta say, Sammy, it's no heaven down here."

"Tell me about it" Sam nodded in agreement.

Dean looked around him once more, noticing the black book that was lying on the alter. The candles had been lit, candles all around him that cast a dim and eerie light.

"So what is this 'thing', this monster that everyone keeps talking about?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen it, but I've heard it. It makes this long and gnarling growl like no man, animal or any demon I've ever heard."

Dean gulped. "That's comforting. Have you seen these yahoo's?" Dean asked, referring to the cult members.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, Dean there just people. They're crazy, evil. They're all up there in the dark arts. I've seen them do some pretty gruesome and full on stuff. I don't know what they are trying to do but I heard that they were trying to bring something back to life. I heard resurrect nd think it's a demon."

"What kind of demon?" Dean asked. He began to feel an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He didn't like the sound of some crazy bunch of people bringing a demon back from the dead. Honestly shouldn't they know what's dead should say dead. But then again Dean could hardly talk for that one. But at least when he arranged for his brother to be brought back from wherever he had been before, Dean had not been unleashing some powerful and super evil being on planet earth. Perhaps Dean had brought back a sometimes major pain in the arse back but not a demon.

Dean let out a moan of pain. The ropes that bound him tightened, causing what felt like his circulation in his wrists to almost be cut off completely. Dean could see that Sam was struggling with his own injuries, and after Dean looked over at his young brother he no longer felt sympathy for himself. Sam was in bad shape. He looked like he had been beaten, tortured around the clock for the past few days that Dean had known Sam to be missing. Dean had to wonder why he had woken up in the motel room, and why Sam had woken up down in the sewers. Dean must have gotten away some how. But he would never leave his brother behind, or would he? Dean still couldn't remember anything. His mind was a complete blank when it came to the days prior his waking up bloody and beaten on the floor of the bathroom.

Dean suddenly snapped back to reality when he heard the sound of footsteps coming their way. Sam looked up too. Dean noticed a figure coming towards them, when the person stepped into the light he recognized the person immediately. It was Jill Wilkinson, the doctor he had met up with only the other day. She was part of the cult. Dean knew it. She wore long dark robes, and her eyes were deadened just like Candace had been. Clearly these people felt no emotion what so ever.

"Dean" she said, her voice was nothing like it had been back at the morgue. He smiled at him, not kindly but evilly. "What a surprise to see you here."

"Diddo" Dean said, looking at her with a malice filled stare. "I gotta tell you that doctor act was perfect. Real good acting on your behalf."

Jill laughed, cold, it sent shivers up Dean's spine. "Same goes for you 'Agent Finn'."

Dean didn't respond to these last words, he just glared at her. "So" he said. "What are you bunch of psycho's up to huh? Trying to bring some late demon back from the dead? I gotta tell you I have yet to see that one."

Jill stopped smiling. "You know nothing, so shut your mouth." She walked over to him and before Dean's heart could even beat she punched him in the jaw bone.

Dean felt the searing pain only for a few moments before letting out a mock filled chuckle. "Wow well done! Although you have to tie me up to beat me, that's saying a lot."

Jill had to restrain herself from hitting him once again because another group of people entered the room. They too were all dressed in those long robes, but unlike Jill they had their faces hidden beneath their hoods.

Dean watched them and his eyes widened as one of them, a male speaker said the words...

"The ritual has begun."

_**

* * *

**__**To be continued...**_

* * *


	11. The Offering

**

* * *

****A/N: **Alright sorry for the update delay I've been super busy at the moment. I've been doing last minute assessment, exams and orals but now I've finished school for the year so I will have full attention on my writing.

* * *

**-Chapter XI-  
**'The Offering'

"_The ritual has begun."_

Ritual. Did Dean hear correctly? He looked over at Sam who looked just as frightened and confused as he was. Dean didn't like the sound of those yahoo's performing some kind of ritual. Bring a demon back from the dead, well he could handle that, but rituals usually required sacrifices. People died, and something told Dean that it wasn't going to be anyone in the robes that was going to put themselves on that offering platter.

"Ritual?" Dean mouthed to Sam who shrugged in response.

"We have the sacrifices--" Jill began turning to look at Candace. "--thanks to you."

"Don't mention it" Candace replied, a small and corrupt smile appeared on her face.

Dean could throttle that Candace chick. Every time he looked her way all he could think about was fastening his fists around her skinny neck. He didn't usually hurt girls—not unless they were demonic or otherwise, and she defiantly fit that bill. She was evil enough.

In the room there three more hooded figures. They had not lowered their hoods so Dean or Sam was unable to get a clear look at who they were dealing with. But Dean knew that one of them was male, he had heard the psycho guy talk before and could have sworn he had heard it's voice before.

Both Sam and Dean watched as the five cult members moved towards the alter. They stood around it, one of them lit over a dozen black candles. Dean scrunched up his nose at the smell of the candles, they were horrible—they smelt like death. From the corner of his eye he could see that Sam wasn't loving the smell either. Dean turned his attention back towards the alter and the cult members. They were all crowed around it, one of them began reading from that black book—Dean had to wonder how that could be done, considering the pages were blank. Dean's attention to the alter was whisked away when he heard a soft, slow growling coming from the corner of the room. He stared at the shadows, not even blinking. Something was there—something that did not sound human but it did sound hungry.

"Don't worry my sweet--" Jill said, looking towards the same corner that Dean was. She was talking to whatever 'thing' that was waiting in the dark. "--you can drain them soon" she finished, glancing at Sam and Dean who both gave each other looks of 'you've got to be kidding me'.

"Do you have the human heart?" one of the hooded cult members asked Jill who wore a confident smile.

"Sure do" she replied.

Jill walked over towards Sam and Dean. She reached in her pocket and pulled a knife out. Dean's eyes widened. For a moment he thought that she was going to carve his chest open and take his still beating heart, but she didn't. She didn't even take Sam's either. Jill knelt towards the ground, Dean tried to get a closer look at what was there. It was a human body—a girl. It was just the body though—no head.

"Her name was Brie" Sam whispered. It was like he had read Dean's mind.

Dean nodded a thanks to Sam, though it didn't put his mind at ease knowing that poor headless chick's name. Dean tried to look away as Jill began carving away at the body's chest. He heard the sound of the surgical knife as it tore into the flesh. If he could, he would have covered his ears—but too bad his hands were tied. Jill got back on two feet again, she had got what she had wanted. Dean saw in her hands a bloody human heart. He wanted to throw up.

Sam and Dean's attention was brought to the alter once again, they watched wide eyed as the coven began to gather round. They formed a circle, and Dean could have sworn that there were now more people—at least ten more to be exact. That was going to make things even more difficult when it came to crunch time.

The coven lowered their hoods, and Dean gasped when he saw who was under some of them. The doctor who had stitched him up a few days ago was among them, was he perhaps the reason behind those injuries? More of the coven began to unmasked themselves and most of them Dean had never seen before in his life—except a few he did recognize. The brother and sister pair that he had met at the police station; Paige and Nate who had claimed their friend Holly had been murdered by whatever monster they kept hidden in the shadows. Had they killed her? And another face was familiar to Dean as the young women he had met at the hospital—that young women he had met the emergency room, crying her eyes out over her sister; Tessa's death. He did not know her name but her face still stood out in his mind.

"We gathered here for a great purpose" the young women begun, it was the one Dean had met in the hospital. "The rising of Chanda will bring great purpose to earth. His rising will mean the end, and the beginning of all hell on earth. My friends, brothers and sisters we are about to make history—end."

Many of the coven cheered, but Dean and Sam didn't. In fact those last words had sent a chill to race over Dean's skin and into his heart. The young women turned to face Dean, giving him a twisted smile. The candles that lingered over her pale and dewy face made her look like a completely different person than the girl that had been crying into his shoulder a few days before. It take a genius to know that she was the leader of that cult.

"We wish to thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for making the ultimate sacrifice" the young women said, she kept looking at Dean—loathing filled her deadened eyes. Dean looked around him and only know did he noticed that apart from the coven he and Sam were not alone. There were more hostages, or in the cult's terms sacrifices. There were only three that were alive, young. They were not chained to the wall but merely tied to chairs with their mouths gaged. They only looked young—really young. They must have been no older than fourteen. There were two girls and one boy, and they all appeared to be weak and on the verge of death.

"My name is Gretchen" the young women said with a sneer. "I'm the leader of this coven, and behalf of my brothers and sisters, thank you." Gretchen made her way over to Dean, an evil smile was still plastered on her face. "You should feel very privileged" she said after appearing right before Dean. "You get to bare witness Chanda's rise from the depths of hell."

"Chanda?" Dean asked, dazed. He had no idea what or whom she was referring to—though Sam seemed to know. As soon as Gretchen had said the name Chanda before Dean had sensed his brother's panic.

"You never did pay attention to your history, did you Dean?" Gretchen said with a smirk. "Chanda is one of the most blood thirsty, brutal and most fierce demon that has ever walked this earth—apart from Lucifer of course. He's a leader of an army of demonic solders that see to it that the plague of humanity be wiped out forever."

"That's sick" Dean said, though this didn't seem to make Gretchen too pleased. "You're sick."

She glared at him for a few moments before moving away to join the rest of the coven.

"What's gonna happen--" Dean asked, causing Gretchen to turn around to give him an icy stare. "When you're demon friend rises and wants to kill you? You're human."

Gretchen gave him a small smile, but she seemed to thinking along the same lines as Dean also but of course she would never let her guard down. "We're prepared for something like that. Sigbin!"

Gretchen had called this last word and at first Dean had thought that she was calling him some kind of the name that he should be offended but that had not been the case. The monster, the thing that had been hidden started to make it's way from the shadows. Dean tried to get a closer look at what 'it' was. As soon as the creature came into the dim light lit by the candles Dean gasped at what he saw.

It was a monster alright and a hideous one at that. It walked backward, moving quickly towards the coven. Dean thought that it resembled some kind of hornless goat but with large ears. It emitted a very nauseating smell that caused Sam and Dean to feel sick within their stomachs. The creature looked at Dean, it's blood red eyes did not leave his own. It looked hungry. Dean stared down at it's claws. They were sharp, razer like pincers that Dean guessed were what it had used to drain those victims of their blood.

"Dude" Dean said, grabbing the creature's full attention. "You fugly!"

"You can offend it all you want Dean" Gretchen snapped. "But it will only make him more mad. You don't want a slow and painful death, now do you?"

"What does this _thing _do exactly? Apart from drain victims of their blood, what does it do for you?" Dean asked. In all his years of hunting and flipping through numerous pages of old books based on demonic creatures and legends he had never before seen something like this.

"This is a Sigbin" Gretchen replied. "An ancient mythological creature from the Philippines. It brings 'us' wealth and most importantly luck, but I serious doubt it will bring you luck—or your brother" Gretchen added.

Dean was only have listening to her, because all eyes were on that creature—Sigbine or whatever she had refered to it as.

"Now" Gretchen said, moving towards him. "Are we going to do this the easy way—or the hard way?"

_**

* * *

**__**To be continued...**_

* * *


	12. Authors Note

* * *

**Authors Note:**

This is not an update! I'm sorry that I haven't been updating in awhile, and I won't be for the next week and a half. I am going on holiday tomorrow and I won't be able to update. I'm sorry for this but in the meantime one of my friends Jess has started a really good story called 'Sam Who?'. It's good and worth a read even though only one or two chapters are up. Anyway until next update.

Sorry,  
_Faith_

* * *


End file.
